


Preparations

by Arelithil



Series: Star Trek: La Sirena [2]
Category: Star Trek: Picard
Genre: Arguing, Canon-typical swearing, Gen, Humour, Pre-Series, Rios is in a very bad mood, Slice of Life, the holo squad is very excited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:07:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24429964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arelithil/pseuds/Arelithil
Summary: Captain Rios and his Emergency Holograms prepareLa Sirenato take on passengers for the first time. That in and of itself is enough to set the captain's teeth on edge and his over-eager holo squad is not making the situation any better.Interlude forStar Trek: La Sirena- Takes place during chapter 1 ofPassengersbut can be read as a standalone!
Relationships: Cristóbal Rios & La Sirena's Emergency Holograms
Series: Star Trek: La Sirena [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1736977
Comments: 48
Kudos: 25





	1. Great Expectations

**Author's Note:**

> Sadly, Episode 2 of _Star Trek: La Sirena_ is proving a bit more elusive than I had hoped. So, as promised, here is a little* interlude to tide you over. This takes place during [the first chapter of _Passengers_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23702563/chapters/56910463), specifically between the first two scenes, but you don’t need to have read that story for this to make sense. If you do want context, reading the first scene will suffice ;]
> 
> [*Edit: As I have mentioned a few times by now, my brain is incapable of keeping anything brief. Predictably, this turned from “Here are a fun couple of little scenes to show off Cris’s relations to the holosquad!” to “this is way too long to post all at once” in no time at all. So there are chapters now. Whoops. But it’s basically finished, so they’ll go up pretty quickly ;) ]
> 
> A huge thanks to my beta Horizon who was kind enough to supplement my woefully neglected Spanish and to laugh at my jokes. You can find her beautiful art on [her tumblr](https://horizonproblems.tumblr.com/).

Cris finished typing in the sequence and hit ‘Execute’. “ _Vale, pruébalo ahora._ ”

Nothing happened. Cris turned around in his chair to where Emmet was supposed to be working on the ops console. What he found instead was that his Emergency Tactical Hologram had leaned back in his chair and appeared to be asleep.

Cris had to resist the urge to throw something at the hologram’s head. “Emmet!”

The ETH jerked ‘awake’. Cris still did not know whether his holograms actually _could_ sleep or whether Emmet’s perpetual naps were a mere affectation and he was not sure he wanted to find out and have to face what that said about his doppelgänger. Either way, Emmet blinked at him as if he had just been roused from deep slumber. “ _¿Qué pasa?_ ”

“I’m so sorry, I hope your job isn’t interfering with your precious nap time”, Cris said sharply.

He realized that he had slipped back into English, a sure-fire sign that his patience was running out. Actually, he had been on edge ever since Raffi’s call yesterday. The thought of having to share his ship with strangers, even if it was just for a couple of months, bothered him more than he was willing to admit and Emmet’s lackadaisical approach to his responsibilities was _not_ what he needed right now. Fortunately, the ETH was perceptive enough to know when not to push his luck and he sat up a little straighter in his chair.

“Testing firewalls”, he announced, still sounding slightly sleepy, but at least he was back to doing his job.

Cris watched as Emmet tried to circumvent the security measures they had just set up around _La Sirena’s_ critical systems. None of the passengers Raffi had picked out for him necessarily seemed like tech geniuses but he still would not risk the integrity of his ship by allowing them access to the operating system. It had taken the better part of two hours to modify various firewalls, security identifications, and access codes to the point where the day to day running of the ship would not be impeded, but Cris could sleep at night without worrying about anyone messing with _Sirena_ ’s systems. Well. Maybe more read than sleep, but that, too, required some peace of mind.

Judging from Emmet’s frustrated grunt, their protections were finally holding up.

“Seems secure”, the hologram confirmed after another minute of fruitless hacking attempts. Cris nodded absentmindedly. He was already mapping out the best route to the marketplace in the large spaceport where he had claimed a landing spot for two days. When he felt Emmet staring at him, he looked up. “I still think we should add some voice control overrides”, the ETH declared.

Cris rolled his eyes. “You know, sometimes you’re too paranoid. It’s a bunch of ivory tower academics, a failed musician and two backwater colonists. We’ll be fine.”

For a second, Emmet looked like he was about to argue, but then he simply shrugged and dropped the matter. Cris expected that, task accomplished, the hologram would deactivate himself, but instead, he slunk lower into his chair and closed his eyes again.

“… _¿Te vas a quedar durmiendo ahi?_ ”

Emmet did not open his eyes as he drawled: “ _¿Me necesitas para algo?_ ”

Cris stared at him for a moment, then he shook his head. “ _Lo mismo me da._ ” He had more important things to worry about.

\---------------------- o O o ----------------------

“Emmet says we’re taking on passengers?”

Cris groaned and hid deeper behind his book, hoping that might make the intruder disappear.

“Were you planning on telling the rest of us any time soon?” The EMH planted himself next to the captain’s chair, hands buried in his pockets. Clearly, he was not going anywhere.

Cris regarded him over the top of the page. “Why would I tell any of you?”

The EMH huffed, but there was more than just reproach in his expression. It took Cris a moment to identify the gleam in the hologram’s eyes and the way he bounced up and down on the balls of his feet a little. The bastard was positively giddy! The suspicion proved itself when the EMH launched into an explanation that was brimming with excitement, badly hidden under his usual exasperated tone. “We’ll need to prepare! If we’re going to have non-human inhabitants on this ship, I’ll need to stock up the emergency medical supplies in sickbay so we’re not caught unawares should the replicators ever fail. Do you have a list of whom we are expecting? And whether they have any specific medical needs?”

Cris snapped his book shut. “You’re an _Emergency_ Medical Hologram. I’m sure you’ll be able to deal if and when we run into a medical emergency. Until then, who’s staying on the ship doesn’t need to concern you.”

The EMH deflated a little, but he stood his ground. “Since this is the first time we’re taking on passengers, I really think we need to put in place some protocols to ensure everyone’s safety and wellbeing.” Cris pinched the bridge of his nose, but the hologram continued undeterred. “Should they have access to the medical replicators, for example? I have cross-referenced the general regulations for starships of this size given by 43 different administrative bodies and I have to say that I like Starfleet’s recommendation to do a comprehensive intake exam on any non-service-member scheduled to stay -”

“We’re not fucking Starfleet!”

The EMH rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m aware of that, Captain, I’m just saying that their approach to -”

“You’re not going to pester my passengers, is that clear?”

“But Captain, I really think having medical records -”

Cris got up from his chair, causing the hologram to take a step back. “I said is that clear?”, he asked, his voice deadly quiet.

For a second they just stared at each other, then the EMH’s face changed as his indignation shifted to concern.

Cris had to stifle a groan. So far, he had found that threats worked wonders to keep the Emergency Holograms from annoying him too much — well except Emmet, who usually just laughed at his attempts at intimidation, but Emmet was very rarely annoying. With the Medical Hologram, however, it was always a bit of a gamble. Most of the time, Cris succeeded in shutting him up, but then there were occasions when this souped-up diagnostic algorithm fancied himself a psychologist, and apparently, today was one of those days.

Before the EMH could take try his hand at psychoanalyzing the reasons for his captain’s annoyance, Cris snapped: “Restrict replication privileges for drugs and medical equipment to sickbay, don’t let the passengers get their hands on anything dangerous, and don’t bother anyone unless there’s a medical emergency. Got that?”

The hologram simulated a beleaguered sigh. “Yes, Captain, but may I -”

“No, you may not! Deactivate EMH.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea that Cris speaks to Emmet in English whenever he’s angry with him is borrowed from [_Watching him, very carefully_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23347048) by AreYouSittingComfortably
> 
> **Spanish Translations**
> 
>  _Vale, pruébalo ahora._ \-- Okay, try it now.  
>  _¿Te vas a quedar durmiendo ahi?_ \-- You’re just gonna sleep there now?  
>  _¿Me necesitas para algo?_ \-- Do you need me for something?  
>  _Lo mismo me da._ \-- Whatever.


	2. A Drenched Puppy

Cris trudged down the corridor towards the mess hall, his barefoot steps echoing through the nightly ship. After several hours he had finally given up on trying to sleep. His mind was racing with worries and ‘what if’s and kept frantically expanding the already sheer endless list of things he needed to decide and arrange before he opened _Sirena’s_ bay-doors to complete strangers in a couple of days.

According to the route Cris had fed the autopilot, he would arrive on Trill tomorrow morning which meant he really should get in a few hours of sleep. So, when his brain had refused to shut up long enough to let him drift off, he had reluctantly rolled out of bed and put on the cut-off shorts he always wore to work out in. Maybe a round of football might calm his mind enough to find some rest — or else it might make him exhausted enough that he would fall asleep regardless of how his brain felt about it.

As he turned the corner into the mess hall, Cris could just see the EMH heading up the steps to the bridge. The hologram was carrying the old emergency medkit they kept under the ops-console as a sort of redundancy if the replicators ever failed. Cris briefly wondered whether he should find it concerning that his holograms had seemingly developed the ability to activate themselves at will, regardless of whether a specific emergency required their attention. Or perhaps they just kept activating each other. Ian had been busy with maintenance around the ship near-constantly for a while now, he might have simply called back the others whenever Cris deactivated them. Either way, Cris figured he should probably confront the EH's about this, but it was not a topic for 3am in the goddamn morning. Right now, he just needed to grab a football, refill his flask and…

A too-familiar voice with a twangy American accent made him look around in alarm. The doors to sickbay stood open and Cris could not help but gape at the spectacle presenting itself inside. The table that usually dominated the white room had been pushed to the alcove in the back, together with the white chairs. Instead, the Emergency Hospitality Hologram was standing in the centre of the floor in front of a number of holo-images hovering in mid-air. From his angle, Cris could not see what, specifically, they depicted, but they all seemed very colourful. The EHH was apparently explaining something or giving a talk, because in front of him, there was a long sofa with a kitschy floral pattern and on it, two very attentive listeners. The ENH sat at the side closest to the door, back ramrod straight, leaning forward slightly with that way too eager smile of his, hanging on the Hospitality Hologram’s every word. Next to him, Ian was bent over something on the low table in front of the sofa. After another careful look, Cris recognized it as one of the plasma coils the engineer had said needed cleaning. And… were those boots on the far edge of the table? Cris’s eyes grew wide as he realized that Emmet was slumped into the cushions at the other end of the sofa. What the _fuck_ was going on here?

He took a step closer, just in time to hear what were apparently the Hospitality Horror’s closing remarks. “… which is why I’ve found it impossible to choose. But I really need to get started on these tonight, so I would be glad to hear what you think.” He sounded almost a little nervous, if such a thing was possible in someone with the EHH’s inflated ego.

The ENH clapped enthusiastically, before pressing his hands to his cheeks. “Goodness, they’re all so well-composed! The autumn theme is very calming, but the sunshine theme would make the cabins so much brighter!”

Ian, who had been tinkering with the plasma coil, tapped his tool against his chin as he considered the holo-images on offer. “You cannae go wrong with a good forest theme. You can change it to fit whatever they want individually.”

The EHH leaned forward a little. “You’re right, the forest theme offers a lot of opportunities for adding a personal touch! It shouldn't be too difficult to have a common basis and then adapt the specifics if they prefer a flowery meadow over a rainforest.” He turned to look at one of the holoscreens, stroking his chin pensively.

“Aye”, Ian agreed, “And you can add some wee critters if anyone is so inclined.”

The Navigational Hologram clapped his hands again. “Oh, that would be _delightful_! I’m sure we have templates of forest creatures somewhere in the database.”

Cris was stunned. He was vaguely aware that he was staring at the lot of them with open-mouthed fascination, but they were clearly so absorbed in their discussion they still had not noticed his presence. He was starting to think he should say something to put an end to this farce, when he heard a truly unexpected voice drawl from somewhere behind Ian: “ _Necesitamos un tema náutico._ ”

There was a moment of pensive silence, as the three other holograms looked at Emmet, then they all started talking at once.

“Yes, that would be so very fitting, you’re right!”, the ENH laughed with delight.

“I suppose there are also wee sea creatures you could add. For the ambiance”, Ian said, already back to fiddling with his tools.

“Isn’t a nautical theme a little too on the nose?” The Hospitality Horror sounded concerned. “We don’t want to appear gauche…”

“Captain.” Cris nearly jumped out of his skin at the quiet voice addressing him from behind. He spun around to find the EMH in front of him, a football in his hands, and a hint of kind smile on his face. “I assume you were looking for this?” He held the ball out to Cris, who took it, unthinking. The EMH’s smile grew fond as he let his gaze drift over Cris’s shoulder for a moment to the small assembly of holograms, who were still hotly discussing interior design options. “Everybody’s very excited about the new additions to the ship”, the Medical Hologram said mildly. “I haven’t seen Steward this happy in a long while.”

There was no hint of reproach in the EMH’s voice, but as his eyes returned to his captain’s, Cris still felt a pang of guilt. Raffi always complained that he was too harsh to his EH’s, but he could not help it, he just found them all so exhausting - and especially that fucking Hospitality Hologram. Still, in the dim light of _Sirena’s_ mess in night mode, with the EMH regarding him with such a gentle, _knowing_ look, he found he did not have it in him to put up a fight. If they wanted to play house, fine, let them have at it. As long as they stayed out of his way.

\---------------------- o O o ----------------------

His conviction lasted through the next few hours, as he kicked his football around the upper deck and occasionally heard laughter or loud discussions drift up from sickbay. It did not waver when, after finally falling asleep, he was woken a few hours later by a crash outside his quarters, followed by startled laughter that was quickly shushed. He had been plagued by nightmares anyway, he should probably be grateful they woke him up.

He even kept up his stoic forbearance as he dropped _Sirena_ out of warp above Trill and the ENH suddenly appeared in his usual chair at the ops console with a way too cheery “Good morning, Captain!”.

Cris kept his focus on the flight controls, steering the ship into a wide orbital path. “Is there a problem with the nav systems?”

The ENH shook his head eagerly. “Oh no, the systems are operating perfectly.”

“Then why are you here?”, Cris asked, trying not to let his determined equanimity slip. “Shouldn’t you be helping with… that…” He gestured over his shoulder to where three of the other holograms were carrying something large and bulky across the back of the upper deck with a lot of excited chatter.

The ENH turned around in his chair to see what Cris was referring to and grinned. “I’m sure they’ll be fine without me for an hour or two. You looked like you needed my company more!”

“I assure you I don’t.” Cris reached up to the holographic controls to lay in a course for the spaceport where he was going to pick up his passengers tomorrow. Before he could do more than pull up some planetary charts, however, the ENH called his own console to life and pulled the navigational controls over to his station. Cris blinked at the blank space where a moment earlier, a sprawling map of the river market had hung in mid-air. “What the...”

“Orbital Control is registering heavier than usual traffic over the port town” The ENH announced in a chipper tone a he typed away on his holoscreen. “It might be a while before we get a window for landing.” He swivelled around in his chair and smiled at Cris. “Why don’t I take care of our approach and you go and have a wee nap?”

That’s what this was about? Cris glowered at the hologram. “I don’t need your help to pilot my ship. Get lost!”

The ENH cocked his head with a look of gentle disapproval. “The last time you tried to land _Sirena_ on less than three hours of sleep we ended up stuck in a riverbed for two days. Ian still has nightmares about all the reeds stuck in the exhaust port.”

“That landing platform was a goddamn joke and you know it! It would have collapsed no matter how gently we put down!”

The ENH raised his eyebrows with an air of amused scepticism. “Sure, Captain. Still, we might want to avoid greeting our guests in a flooded cargo bay, no?”

Cris scoffed and grumbled: “Maybe that’ll keep them off my ship…” He grabbed the cigar case from his belt, but it was empty. _Damn it!_ When he looked up, he noticed that the hologram was regarding him with an unreadable impression. “What?!”

“Nobody is forcing you to do this, you know”, the ENH said mildly. “I’m sure Ms. Musiker would understand if you wanted to call it off.”

“And deprive you lot of your newfound purpose?”, Cris shot back, voice dripping with acid.

The hologram grinned, undeterred by the provocation. “We’ll survive. If it means you won’t be moping around the ship like a drenched puppy anymore —”

“Deactivate ENH!”

\---------------------- o O o ----------------------

Cris did end up drifting off for a bit while he was waiting for Orbital Control to clear _Sirena_ for landing, but he would not have needed it. He was perfectly capable to land his fucking ship, thank you very much!

The other holograms had reactivated the ENH almost as soon as Cris had dismissed him, or maybe he had reactivated himself, but Cris decided to return to his previous strategy of steadfastly ignoring whatever they were getting up to. It did not escape his attention, though, that they were a lot quieter now whenever they traipsed across the main deck. Perhaps they did not want to risk annoying him enough that he might try to figure out how to turn them off more permanently. Whatever it was, it suited Cris perfectly, since it meant he could focus on manoeuvring _Sirena_ through the thrum of ships flying to and from the river market spaceport.

The landing went off without a hitch (of course!) and soon, sunlight and hot, dusty air streamed in through opened hatches and air vents. Cris allowed himself a moment to lean back in his chair, take a long drag from his cigar, and watch the bustling scene sprawling in all directions. Market stalls and food carts spilled out of narrow streets winding between low, dust-coloured buildings. As far as Cris could tell, the “river” had run dry centuries ago and its bed had become the foundation of a multi-storey gallery built of steel painted to look like ancient hardwood. The narrow construction snaked through the city for kilometres in each direction and every part of it brimmed with pedestrians, street performers, and vendors selling their goods from small hovertrays. As was the wont of a large spaceport, the people going about their business outside _Sirena’s_ windows hailed from all parts of the galaxy. Still, they had all chosen to pay homage to the local culture: every house, every window, every stall and even the smallest carts were festooned with intricate garlands of brightly coloured cloth.

Cris thought he saw a shop window down one of the side streets offering a selection of these garlands in maritime hues. Perhaps he could have a look at those later, see if anything caught his fancy. But first, there still remained a long list of preparations to finish. With a reluctant sigh, Cris stubbed out his cigar and got up. At least the work might keep him busy enough that he would not worry about whatever the holograms needed the large number of cardboard boxes for that now lay piled on the transporter platform…


	3. Playing House

“There was an issue with the sonic showers on the lower deck a while ago, I think we should —”

“Aye, some of the oscillator coils were fused, but I managed to replace the wee buggers.”

“Oh.” Cris rubbed his chin, thinking hard. “Did you manage to get a replicator pattern for the plasma duct covers? Now that we’re planetside I could replace the temporary ones, so we don’t run the risk of leaks.”

Ian looked up from the circuits he was recalibrating. “I dinnae think we need to worry about those. You attached the temps securely and I check the pressure sensors every three days. Besides, I could nae find any patterns that were suitable for _Sirena’s_ specifications. We’ll need to look for new parts when we pass by a proper repair station.”

“Right.” There was a loud clatter from one of the cabins further down the corridor, followed by bickering voices. Cris briefly closed his eyes and tried to tune out the noise. “I was thinking we should move the aeroponics station closer to the centre of the cargo bay to make room for whatever luggage the archaeologists will be bringing along. From the professor’s message it sounded like some of their equipment might require specialized storage.”

“Oh, aye, Steward and I were talking about that yesterday.” Ian called up a schematic of the cargo bay on his diagnostic tablet and held it out to Cris. The familiar floor plan was covered in a complex grid of colours and diagrams. “We came up with a system to use the space most efficiently and reduce energy consumption. Would you like me to explain it?”

“No, I… That’s okay.” Cris felt at a loss. His fingers were twitching with nervous energy, but it seemed like his EEH had already found a solution to all of the concerns that had plagued him over the last few of days.

Ian was watching him with a patient smile. “Is there anything else I can help you with Captain? Because I really want to finish these calibrations before our guests get here.”

“Yes. No, I mean…” Cris took a deep breath. “Thanks, Ian. Good job.”

Ian nodded and returned to his work, the picture of quiet satisfaction. Not for the first time, Cris had to admit he admired the Engineering Hologram’s competence and even temper. It was a very pleasant contrast to the other four who often seemed to take joy in being as contrary and annoying as possible.

Case in point: the bickering drifting out of the cabin at the end of the corridor was steadily growing louder. Cris steeled himself as he headed towards the open door and then stopped abruptly, staring at the bizarre scene.

The Navigational Hologram and the Hospitality Horror were kneeling on the cabin floor, surrounded by a ludicrous number of pieces of wood and metal that lay strewn higgledy-piggledy about the suspiciously empty room. Little bags of screws, nuts, nails, and dowels sat on every available surface and Cris could see at least three versions of the same kind of tool lying half-hidden among the rubble. It looked like there had initially been some system to this madness, but it had been abandoned along the way.

It took Cris another moment to realize why the room felt so empty, then he groaned. Where he would have expected the bed to be, there were now only the remnants of cardboard boxes, piled against the wall. He grabbed the door frame for support. “What _the fuck_ are you doing?!”

The two holograms abruptly stopped arguing and looked up at him in surprise. “Captain!” The ENH smiled, though it seemed a little more strained than usual. “I didn’t see you there! We… um…” He looked around at the collection of wooden parts.

The Hospitality Hologram stood up, dusting off his shins. “We’re assembling the new bed”, he said as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“The new bed?”, Cris echoed.

“Yes!” The ENH nodded eagerly.

“What… What exactly was wrong with the old bed?”

The EHH raised a condescending eyebrow. “Besides the fact it was designed in a century when people were still using static tools? Nothing.”

Cris ground his teeth, but before he could say anything, the Engineering Hologram called from the other end of the corridor: “You should never underestimate the value of a good Allen Wrench!”

“Of course not, Ian”, the ENH shouted back immediately. “There’s nothing wrong with static tools, but you have to admit the beds had seen better days.”

“Aye, they were already a shambles when the previous owner acquired _La Sirena_.”

“And you thought _right now_ was the best time to replace them?”

The EHH shrugged. “The opportunity was too good to pass up. And we want our guests to feel welcome, don’t we?”

“They’re not ‘guests’”, Cris snapped, fighting to keep his voice level, “they’re passengers and they’re not here for a luxury cruise! If they’re unhappy with the accommodations, they’re free to find a different ride and good riddance!”

The Hospitality Hologram’s face fell when he realized Cris was serious. The ENH on the other hand was looking at him with an expression of mild reproach and when he was sure he had his captain’s attention, he mouthed the words ‘drenched puppy’.

Cris felt the anger he had been fighting down for days now bubble to the surface and his grip on the doorframe tightened until his knuckles turned white. But there was something in the Navigational Hologram’s earnest eyes that made him hesitate. The ENH had been right in what he’d said before, nobody was _forcing_ Cris to do this. If he really hated this plan so much, he could call it off right now. Raffi would probably have a few choice words for him, but she was good at smoothing ruffled feathers, so she could placate the passengers and make sure the last-minute cancellation did not tarnish Cris’s name, and there were ways to make money without drawing attention to oneself that did not involve ferrying a bunch of tourists across the quadrant.

Was he really going to throw a tantrum over a burden he had imposed on himself?

Suddenly Cris felt bone tired. He rubbed his eyes and glanced around the room again, defeated. “This had better all be done before they get here tomorrow.”

The Hospitality Hologram replied with a smug smile. “Of course, Captain!”

Cris nodded once and turned to leave, but then he hesitated and looked over his shoulder. “And that bit is upside-down.” He pointed at a part of the construction the holograms had been working on.

For a moment, the two of them simply stared at the joined wooden pieces, then the Hospitality Hologram clicked his tongue. “I told you it didn’t fit right!”

The ENH frowned. “The polished side needs to be on the front, I’m sure about that.”

The other hologram shook his head. “But there shouldn’t be a gap at the bottom! And the screws didn’t fit right either.”

“That’s because you used the wrong ones”, Cris pointed out.

The EHH frowned. “But the instruction manual said to use these.”

Cris shrugged. “Then the manual is wrong. The screws are supposed to be flush with the board.”

“Huh.” The ENH got up and headed over to the desk to pick up a flimsy bit of display foil that probably contained the erroneous manual. While he swiped back through the construction steps, the Hospitality Hologram went to look over his shoulder. When they got to the right page, both holograms stared at what they saw there for a long moment.

Then they tilted their heads in a disconcertingly synchronous movement.

Then Enoch turned the manual upside down.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Give me that!” Cris snatched the manual from the Navigational Hologram’s hands and picked up a tool from the desk to thrust it at the EHH. “Those four screws need to come out and then that board over there goes in first, so go find the right dowels for that.”

He tried very hard to ignore the delighted grins with which the holograms jumped to follow his instructions.

\---------------------- o O o ----------------------

“Are you sure this is the right way around?”

“Yes.”

“But —”

“Enoch, it’s the right way round, just slot it in!”

“I think he might have a point, Captain.”

“That’s because you genius are looking at the instructions for the chest of drawers, not the cupboard.”

“… Ah…”

\---------------------- o O o ----------------------

“I’m just saying it would be nice if the rooms were a little less drab.”

“No.”

“It would really bring the decor together if —”

“No!”

The EHH huffed dramatically. “But Captain…”

“Read my lips: We are not getting fish tanks.”

“ _They wouldnae have to be real fish_ ”, Ian called from somewhere, possibly inside the wall. “ _There are some lovely holographic options that_ —”

“Nobody asked you!” Cris ran a hand over his eyes. “There’s a shop selling these cloth garlands that are everywhere outside. If I get you one for each room, will you _finally_ shut up about the decor?”

The Steward beamed at him with unbridled joy.

\---------------------- o O o ----------------------

“I’m fine, just leave it.”

“I’m not listening to Steward complain for days about how he had to get blood stains out of his brand-new furniture. Now hold still!”

“It’s not even that bad.”

“Is that your professional medical opinion?”

“You know, instead of pestering me —”

“ _Treating_ you.”

“— you could really lend a hand. Those two will never get all the cabins ready on their own.”

“I thought that’s why you’re helping them.”

“Apparently, I can’t be trusted not to get blood stains all over the brand-new furniture. So, since you can’t get hurt using power tools…”

Emil rolled his eyes.

\---------------------- o O o ----------------------

“ _Emmet, cuando te dije que comprobaras si la cama estaba terminada, no me refería a que te durmieras en ella_. … _¡EMMET!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Spanish Translations**  
>  _Emmet, cuando te dije que comprobaras si la cama estaba terminada, no me refería a que te durmieras en ella._ \-- Emmet, when I said to check if the bed was finished, I didn’t mean take a nap on it.


	4. Monstrous Revalations

Cris dropped his PADD on the table with an exhausted sigh and leaned back on the bench. Who would have thought coming up with some kind of welcome speech would turn out to be the hardest part of this truly insane day?

The last rays of sunlight filtered through the half-open shutters along the walls and bathed the lower deck in a fiery glow. Emmet was lying sprawled across some pushed-together benches at the other table, one arm draped over his face, his chest rising and falling steadily in a simulacrum of human sleep.

Cris wondered whether he should get himself another cup of coffee, when suddenly the EHH appeared from somewhere and sat down across the table from him. When he noticed Cris staring, the hologram looked up, a professional smile on his face. “Anything I can do for you, Captain?”

“Um…” Cris felt like his brain had turned to molasses. Finally, he shook his head. “I’m good.”

“Very good, sir.” The Steward’s smile widened for a moment, then he grabbed his large hospitality tablet out of the air, flipped it open and started typing something.

Cris blinked a few times, but when the hologram did not disappear, he decided to return to the time-tested strategy of simply ignoring him and focused on his own feeble attempts at writing.

He had gotten as far as ‘Welcome aboard _La Sirena’_ , when voices approached from the corridor at the back of the mess hall.

“All I’m saying is it would be too big.”

“You never see more than bits of it close to the horizon. I dinnae ken how your perception algorithms work, but—”

“I really rather hope you do!”

“… _but_ at that distance it’d be no bigger than… a spaniel, say.”

“A very wet spaniel…” Enoch grinned broadly as he plopped down on a bench next to the ones Emmet was occupying. But then his expression turned pensive and he started absent-mindedly untangling some of the knots in the ETH’s long hair. “You know, that might actually be a good point. But you’d need some highly complex algorithms to adapt the perspective distortion for the different angles people might see it from. I doubt it could work with more than five people watching at a time.”

Ian sat down next to him. “Have you ever heard of more than five people seeing her at once?”

“No, that’s true.”

There was a short silence. From the corner of his eyes, Cris noticed that the Hospitality Hologram had stopped whatever he was working on and was apparently listening to the conversation at the other table with rapt attention.

“ _Obviamente es una foca mutante._ ”

The EHH groaned quietly as Ian and Enoch immediately started protesting Emmet’s suggestion.

Cris turned to the hologram across from him with a sense of morbid curiosity. “Do I want to know?”

The Steward rolled his eyes. “Enoch is convinced that there’s a mystical sea monster in the central mountain lakes of New Caledonia Colony, but Ian thinks there must be some technological explanation for it, since the only mythical sea creature of that description ever to have existed was kidnapped from a lake on Earth by Vulcans four centuries ago when they determined she was too highly evolved to squander her existence on such a primitive planet, an she hasn’t been seen since.”

Cris really did not want to hear any more, but he could not stop himself. “And Emmet?”

“Is trying to slowly drive me insane by making sure they never stop arguing about it.”

“Huh.” He was debating asking another question when he was distracted by pneumatic _whoosh_ of the doors to sickbay opening. Emil came stalking towards them and before he was even halfway to the table, the EHH had jumped up and picked up one of the cups from the shelf by the replicator. When he handed it to the grateful Medical Hologram, it was filled with steaming liquid.

“Nessie again?”, Emil asked, nodding towards the heated conversation at the other table as he sat down.

“Let’s change the subject, please”, the Hospitality Hologram answered and sank back onto his own bench with an exasperated sigh. “Are you all done?”

“That should have been the last of it, yes.”

“Excellent.” The Steward made a note on his tablet and swiped through some information for a moment. Finally, he nodded. “Looks like we’re in very good shape.” He crisply snapped the tablet’s cover closed and looked up at Cris. “I don’t suppose I can convince you to let us prepare a proper reception for —”

“No.”

The EMH scoffed into his mug but the Hospitality Hologram seemed prepared to accept Cris’s judgement - even if it was with the mien of a long-suffering martyr.

Cris’s fingers twitched, but he made an effort to keep his tone casual as he said: “Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you something. Which one of you figured out how to override the part of your programming that says you’re only supposed to activate for the duration of a concrete emergency?”

An immediate hush fell over the mess hall and the balmy temperature seemed to drop by several degrees. Enoch’s hand froze, tangled in Emmet’s hair, and even though the ETH still pretended to sleep, Cris noticed the stiffness in his usually loose limbs. Ian and Steward were suddenly extremely interested in the grated mesh of the metal tables in front of them. Of the five of them, only Emil would meet Cris’s eyes.

For a long moment, the EMH regarded him with an inscrutable look, then he shrugged. “It seemed prudent to have a contingency for such rare and unimaginable situations like our captain nearly getting himself killed and needing someone to quickly manoeuvre _Sirena_ out of firing range of disgruntled customers.” His eyes narrowed briefly, probably remembering the last few occurrences of this rare scenario, but he did not dwell on it. Instead, he continued evenly: “When we looked into it, we discovered that our creators were surprisingly… broad in their definition of what constitutes an emergency.”

Cris could easily believe that. Especially the Hospitality Hologram seemed to have his activation sequence on a hair trigger.

Enoch piped up from the other table: “They probably thought it would be better to risk bothering people a bit rather than risk them not getting help when they needed it.” Cris shot him a dark look and the ENH quickly turned away again.

Ian, however, seemed to have gotten over his initial trepidation at the prospect of being able to give a lecture on _Sirena’s_ computer system. “They tied the activation scenarios into our adaptive risk-assessment algorithms so that every time we activate, the relative weights of any given number of environmental variables —”

“The main point”, Emil interrupted gently, “is that we’re able to define what meets the criteria for emergency activation, and, well…” He raised his eyebrows and gave Cris a look that made it clear he basically considered his captain’s lifestyle a perpetual emergency. “From there it only took a few clever adaptations.” He let his gaze wander over his fellow holograms before finally returning it to Cris. “You could say it was a group effort.”

Cris was too dumbfounded to speak. He could feel all of their eyes on him, watching, waiting, worried how he might react to this clear insubordination.

The problem was he had no idea how to react.

He felt like he should be angry, and a part of him was utterly furious at the fucking _gall_ of such a shameless power-grab. They were computer programmes, they were supposed to support him and do what he said, not take control of their activation sequences and run amok all over his ship! But the rest of him was just so very tired. His brain was swimming with worries about the next two months, and in contrast to a ship full of strangers, these five recalcitrant subroutines at least presented a known quantity. He might not like what they had done, and he would try to regain at least a modicum of control sooner rather than later, but right now, for the second time in less than twenty-four hours, he found himself unwilling to fight them.

They were all looking at him, varying combinations of apprehension, guilt, and defiance on identical faces - his face - awaiting his judgement.

Cris took a long breath, then he tapped a finger on the tabletop. “If you start getting clever with me and refuse to piss off when I tell you to, I swear to god I will wipe you off the system quicker than you can say ‘Nature of your Emergency’. Got that?”

They all nodded more or less eagerly, but the tension was broken. Enoch had recovered his sunny grin, and Emmet melted back into his usual relaxation.

Cris shook his head, then he stood up. “I’m heading out for the rest of the night.” He hesitated for a second. “I assume if I tell you to deactivate, you’ll just bring yourself back online right away?”

Emil primly straightened his cup on the table. “Of course not, Captain.” He looked up at Cris, eyes brimming with sardonic amusement. “We’d wait at least ten minutes after you left to make sure you wouldn’t return for something you forgot on the ship.”

Cris felt a shiver run down his spine as the other holograms stifled an array of snorts and giggles. He decided he did not need to know for how long that particular routine had been in place now.

“Right.” He felt oddly unmoored, knowing when he left _Sirena_ , the ship would still be bustling with life.

The Hospitality Hologram looked up at him with an indulgent smile. “Would you like to set up the usual security perimeters, Captain?”

Cris cast a quick look over at the still pretend-sleeping Emmet. “I imagine you have it under control?”

“Of course, Captain”, the Steward answered smoothly. “But there are many studies showing that ritualized actions are an important foundation for—”

Cris took a breath to snap a deactivation command and the EHH immediately stopped talking and ducked his head. The sight made Cris balk inwardly and brought back memories of Raffi’s last lecture about the importance of not terrorizing your Emergency Holograms.

He could not deal with this. Not tonight, possibly not ever.

So instead of trying to engage them any longer or think about how he should react to their revelations, he let his brain fall back on well-rehearsed routines. “Activate the proximity alert, lock all the shutters before you deactivate, and if I’m not back by then, set up a security perimeter halfway to the edge of the landing site. Enoch, make sure Orbital Control set us a departure window for tomorrow...”

“Aye, Captain.”

“… and Emmet, you’re in charge of security.” The ETH waved a lazy hand in acknowledgement.

Cris took a final look around at them all. “There better not be any fucking fish tanks anywhere when I return.”

Their hasty assurances followed him as he stalked towards the cargo bay to head out into the bustling market.

Although the sun had fully set by now, the heat outside _La Sirena’s_ metal walls was still stifling, and the throng of people had increased since his arrival in the morning. Cris stood for a moment, unsure where to turn. A burst of colour caught his eye and he headed down one of the small streets to the shop display he had noticed earlier.

The cloth garlands were truly spectacular, shimmering in hues of aquatic blue and green. Some of them had what looked like tiny pearls woven into the fabric and when they moved in the hot breeze, they glistened like stars reflecting in the ocean. Cris ran his fingers over one of the flowing textiles and the touch made it ripple in a surprisingly water-like movement. These would go really well with the new bedsheets Steward had replicated a few hours earlier.

…

Cris groaned as he replayed that last thought in his mind and quickly spun around, looking up and down the street. He needed to find a bar! Perhaps, if he got drunk enough, he could forget this whole day ever happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Spanish Translation**   
>  _Obviamente es una foca mutante. _\-- It’s obviously a mutant seal.__


	5. Epilogue

Steward collected the candy wrappers that lay strewn about the mess table. It had been holographic food, of course, carefully calibrated over weeks of testing to resemble the real thing as closely as he could manage - and Steward was rather good at culinary programming if he said so himself. Apparently, his fellow holograms agreed, judging by the sheer amount of little papers piled in various places around the large game board.

He could have simply asked _Sirena’s_ AI to delete the evidence of the last two hours of revelries, but there was something deeply satisfying in using his own hands to restore order and tranquillity to the ship, one colourful wrapper at a time. On the other side of the table, Ian was sorting the game pieces back into the large box with great care. The game, too, was a holographic creation, but the engineer shared Steward’s attitude towards doing tasks yourself, rather than pushing them off to the computer. Emil had made an ironic comment about their fastidiousness, before he hurried off to sickbay to rearrange his tools for the third time that day and make sure his stock of medicines was in order and stored securely.

Steward watched fondly for a moment, as the doctor bustled about his little realm. Sometimes he wished the captain could see his fellow holograms like he saw them: brilliant, funny, caring deeply about their work, about each other - about Rios…

He sighed and shook his head. They should probably count it as a victory that the confrontation earlier had not ended in shouting and threats. Well. No serious threats, anyway. Emil said that was the best they could have hoped for right now, and he was probably right. But it pained Steward to just let it go and not try to mend fences in some way.

It was easier for Enoch and Emmet, who had built a tenuous rapport with Rios over the years, based on a similar sense of mocking humour and a stunning amount of jovial disrespect for his authority. And Ian and Emil were vital for keeping _Sirena_ and her captain in good shape, even if the doctor rarely got any gratitude for his efforts. But he was a Hospitality Hologram on a ship that never hosted anyone, trying to make life easier for a captain who believed anything that came easy was not worth having.

He heaved another deep sigh.

There was a shimmer in the air as Emmet appeared next to him. “ _Hay alguien en la puerta_ ”, the ETH drawled with a nod to the back of the ship.

“Thank you, I’ll go have a look.” Steward dusted off his hands and started to head towards the cargo bay. As he walked away, he saw Emmet pick up the little trash can and swipe the remaining wrappers from the table into it in one big motion, scattering half of them on the floor.

The cargo doors were still open, though a blue forcefield shimmered around the loading ramp, discouraging anyone from trying to get inside unannounced. A young woman with an utterly bored expression was standing at the edge of the ramp, tapping one foot in a staccato rhythm.

“Can I help you, Miss?”, Steward asked pleasantly as he reached the door.

The woman’s eyes went wide and her foot froze in mid-air. “I’ll be damned. I thought we was just talking nonsense, drunk as he was, but you really look exactly like him!”

Steward’s neural pathways immediately shifted into high alert. “You mean Captain Rios? Is he alright? Did something happen?”

“Nah.” The woman lazily kicked a box that was resting on the dusty ground beside her. “He said to deliver these to Steward, you’d know what to do.”

Steward quickly dismissed the forcefield and the young woman grabbed her delivery and trudged up the loading ramp. When she reached the door, she shoved the package into his arms and said so fast her words nearly blurred together: “Thank-you-for-doing-business-with-us-today-please-come-again-soon-to-Dreiza’s-fabric-emporium-have-a-good-night.” And with that she turned around and shuffled off again, leaving an utterly bewildered hologram in her wake.

Still slightly apprehensive, Steward set down the box and carefully pried it open. A cascade of vibrantly coloured fabric spilled out over the sides, shimmering like liquid as some of it pooled onto the floor. A scrap of paper was tacked to the inside of the lid. The note, written in sprawling script that, despite a certain drunken slant, was still clearly identifiable as the captain’s, simply read: ‘ _No Fishes!!’_

Steward ran his hands over the garlands with a delighted smile. These would go perfectly with the new bedsheets!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Spanish Translation:**  
>  _Hay alguien en la puerta_ \-- There’s someone at the door.
> 
> \---------------------------------
> 
> Thus concludes our little interlude. I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it!
> 
> I'm still working hard on ep2, don't give up on me yet ;) But in the meantime, there are likely some more holo squad shenanigans in the near future - because how could I ever stop writing about those five?
> 
> Thank you all for reading and for the kudos and for such incredibly kind, thoughtful comments!  
> A special thanks, once again, to my amazing beta Horizon!
> 
> And if you are interested in my other (slowly) unfolding project, [join me on tumblr](https://mappinglasirena.tumblr.com/) to discover more about the layout and set-construction of _La Sirena_!


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